Sacrifices
by Chellero
Summary: One year after the failure of birth control, Reese and Carter adjust to their new reality.


"Hold it!" Joss Carter pointed her gun at Martin Donov after she and Lionel Fusco chased him a few blocks and his lack of preparedness led him to a dead end. Her poor partner was carrying a few more pounds than she was so she got to Donov first.

Realizing he had nowhere else to run, and not willing to kill a couple of cops to even attempt to flee, he gave it up.

"Drop it!" Carter watched as he dropped his weapon, his back to her. Fusco arrived just then, brandishing his service weapon as well. "Down on the ground. Now! Don't fucking move!" Fusco rushed cautiously over to the perpetrator, kicking his gun away, pushing his own into the small of his back for temporary storage, and kneeled down to handcuff their prisoner. Once he was safely restrained, Carter placed her gun in her holster and watched as Fusco hauled Donov up and walked him toward her while Mirandizing him.

She heard sirens approaching and was glad their back up had arrived. Because doing the perp walk with Donov all the way back to their car was really going to piss her off. She was still trying to catch her breath from the run that little bastard had forced upon her. She was beat, huffing and puffing like a smoker. Absolutely livid he had tried to run. When would these stupid idiots learn that nine times out of ten it was futile? When would they learn to not do the damn crime in the first damn place? The fuck was it with these people?

Jesus, she needed some sleep. She was out here cursing like a sailor, losing what little patience she had at a moment's notice. If she didn't get it together, Fusco was going to be asking for a transfer. As it was, he was trying to be supportive, but none of this was his damn fault. She wouldn't blame him if he did try to ditch her as a partner. Fortunately- or unfortunately- they were pretty much bound by blood, considering who they kept illegal company with. Then again, maybe there was a chance for him. To break free some day. She, however, no longer had a choice in the matter. Her affliction was permanent.

"Look, I didn't do it. I swear."

She heard Donov in her ear. She really didn't want to be hearing Donov in her ear.

"You got the wrong guy." Donov continued as they led him out of some poor, unsuspecting individual's tiny backyard. "Sweetheart, look, I was only there helping my cousin out. He grabbed the gun and shot her."

She was not in the mood. Why couldn't he sense that? Was she supposed to find him charming? Find it cute that his guilty ass was sinking so low as to blame his cousin? They had witnesses and a video tape. So, again, why was he buzzing in her ear?

"Beautiful, come on. It wasn't me. Look at me."

"Please shut the hell up."

"Angel, come on, look at me. I was just trying to- "

"Shut up!" She turned to him then, anger flaring in her eyes.

The fake charm. It took that moment to disappear. "Fuck you, then, bitch!"

She shouldn't have done it. Some beat cops were approaching to take him off their hands. She would be free from his verbal onslaught in a matter of seconds. But it felt good at the time. Hauling off and backhanding him across the face. Too much time with John she reasoned. The look she got from Fusco afterwards, like she'd lost her mind and he was wondering from what planet she'd just gotten back from, had her wincing. Reeling from her uncharacteristic behavior.

She was just too damn old for this. Starting over with a baby at forty-two years old. She left Fusco to give the officers instructions and walked toward her car to wait for him. Get herself together. Count backwards from ten in Spanish. Meditate. Woo-Sah. Something. Exhaustion was pummeling her and she was about to be down for the count. She wanted to cry, felt the tears burning as they tried to break free and run down her cheeks.

She continued walking down the sidewalk, shaking her head to try to focus, hold back the hysteria she was beginning to feel.

She was losing it.

* * *

Grateful to Fusco for processing Donov, Carter sat at her desk a few hours later. She had managed to do it. Pull herself together.

But that had been a close one.

Sighing, she closed the folder on her desk, smiled at LaBlanca as she waved passing her desk, and reached into her jacket pocket when she felt her phone vibrate. She looked at the caller ID and knew it was likely one of two people. Or anybody. She gave her cell out to a lot of random people in her line of work. Having a personal connection to people who knew the streets often helped solve a lot of cases. "Carter."

"I have a gift for you. Luke Sampson. He's tied up at the old Cavlin Industries warehouse out on Havershaw."

Carter closed her eyes and sighed, feeling a tension headache about to park itself inside her skull. "Can you give it to Fusco?"

John took a moment to process the weariness in her voice. He knew she was exhausted, had known for some time. When her eight-week maternity leave was over, she had been excited as hell to go back to work. Excited to get out of the house, away from the 24-hour whirlwind of diapers, feedings, crying, and monotony, for a good eight to ten hours a day. In spite of how tired she was, he couldn't remember ever seeing her so giddy. But after a month back on the job, he was worried about her. The job was wearing her out during the day and their three month old refused to sleep much during the night, fiercely resisting their efforts to coax her from her graveyard shift sleeping cycle.

It was his fault. And as usual the guilt was eating away at him. His absurd hours were making it worse for her. He didn't clock in or out. He didn't have set hours. He didn't have weekends off. He didn't have vacation time. He was on-call twenty-four seven. He couldn't be counted on. Every time she tried to, he had to run off. And if there was one thing he wanted, it was for her to be able to count on him. To have her back. But now, with their unexpected complication, having her back had a new definition. And he was failing on that end profoundly.

When she was still home with the baby, he had to admit he wasn't concerned. There was always someone- namely her- there with the infant, and that was all that mattered. Whenever he was home, so were they. It was good. Life was good. He had even been lucky enough to have a few easy numbers to protect or deter for awhile there, Finch having been able to rely on himself and Fusco to handle some of them. But, of course, that wasn't going to last. And it didn't. Soon, he was back in the groove of things, the three of them struggling only slightly with the absence of their fourth member. She had pretty much been out of commission the last couple months of her pregnancy, with them relying on her only for information she could give over the phone. They were cut off almost totally from her information sources for those eight weeks she was home after the birth. Fusco sufficed, though, in a pinch. When he didn't, Finch had had to work a little harder to get past encryption and firewalls to access certain top-level data. It slowed them down but it didn't stop them.

But the way they were going now couldn't continue. The way she was going couldn't.

"Okay. I'll call him. Is he there?"

"No, he's out." She didn't elaborate. She honestly couldn't remember what he'd said when he left. About where he was going. Didn't know if it would even be feasible for him to stop whatever he was doing to arrest Luke Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was. But she was just beyond that point of caring. Having three jobs was really getting to be too much: mother, detective, undercover vigilante assistant.

"I'll find him. How are you feeling?" He asked even though he already knew.

"The usual, John. Call me back if you can't get him."

"Will do. Sampson's not going anywhere."

"Okay." She tiredly hung up the phone. Sampson. That's what it was. Her memory was failing her. It actually took her a second one time to remember her own middle name.

But what did she expect? She knew it was going to be like this. Knew she was going to be raising their child by herself. It was just a given. She was beyond grateful to have her mother as a babysitter, however. She didn't have to worry about picking J up late or worry about what a stranger could possibly be doing to her child. Because of their hours, day care had been out. Because of the secretive, illegal nature of John's real job, a nanny- especially a live-in one- was out as well. He or she had the potential to learn more than they wanted him or her to. Fortunately, her very recently retired mother had volunteered and seemed to enjoy caring for her granddaughter. Even if she didn't particularly care for her son-in-law. Carter knew her mother wasn't stupid. Lois Williams thought John Reese was shady. And, well, he was. Just not in the sense her mother thought. If it came down to having to entrust her mother with the real reason her husband seemed shady, she would. At least it would be kept in the family, and she was sure her mother wouldn't turn John in. Because she'd have to turn her own daughter in, too.

She sighed heavily, thinking back on all the changes in her life the last year had brought. She had probably known John for about six months before she noticed how damn fine he was. Before that he pretty much just got on her nerves. One day, though, it hit her. Probably some time after he and Finch got Taylor back for her. She had never dreamed of telling him that, though. There was no point to it. Because the two of them together was something to laugh at.

But who was laughing now?

It started off innocently enough. She'd catch him smiling that smile at her. He'd randomly show up at one of Taylor's games or drama performances. He bought her some conflict-free diamond earrings for her forty-first birthday. Then randomly bought her a matching bracelet later for no occasion at all. She figured he just had money to spend and no one to really spend it on. But flattered she had been. And more and more attracted to him she became. The butterflies in her stomach every time he was around became more and more pronounced. She hated when days went by and she didn't hear from him. Hearing from him or seeing him became the highlight of her day.

Then, one day, it peaked. The unofficial courtship was consummated. They were alone in a fancy hotel room, supposed to be doing preliminary surveillance on one of his persons of interest- she had only dropped by for a second to show him a case file since she was conveniently, purposefully nearby- and in due time their phones were turned off and surveillance was delayed. And everything between them and amongst the team changed.

After just two months of attempting to date while having no problems whatsoever sleeping together, she discovered what being a member of that small club of birth control failure moms felt like. After the initial disbelief and denial wore off, she knew she had to get with it. People had to be told. Decisions had to be made. Her child's father was a perpetual criminal, hiding in plain sight but still hiding. He went by a false name, led a false existence, had emotional scarring she didn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole, and did a whole lot of illegal shit.

And he made the world a better place.

Still, the situation was all wrong. She hadn't even formally introduced John to Taylor, let alone anyone else in her inner and social circles. They had pretty much kept what was between them between them. There was time, they figured, to decide on what to tell her family and friends and co-workers. How much to tell them and when. She wouldn't be able to see him in secret forever. It was just too much damn work. More work than hiding their "professional" relationship. And her girlfriends and mother were nosy fucking people.

Still, she had had to decide. She had had to choose whether she wanted to be known as That Girl. The one who, to family and friends and strangers alike, didn't know who her child's father was and, thus, would be raising it alone. That would save her from having to explain all the trouble that came wrapped up in a beautiful package named John.

She had had to decide if she wanted to be That Other Girl. The one who knew who her child's father was but didn't want him in her child's life and, thus, would be raising it alone. That would also spare her the trouble.

What would her girlfriends say? She figured they'd be shocked but supportive regardless. What would her mother and aunts, uncles and cousins say? They would be shocked, too. That Perfect Jocelyn Ann had finally slipped up at the ripe old age of forty-one. But eventually, they, too, would be supportive while probably talking about her behind her back. And Taylor. What would he say? Would he ignore everything she'd told him about keeping a lid on it until he was married and go off and make her a grandmother just to spite her and her flaming hypocrisy?

Then there had been her third and fourth options. Adoption or abortion. She didn't think her situation warranted either of those. She was financially and emotionally sound. She could do it on her own if she had to. Neither were the right choice for her.

There had been one final option. The one that didn't exclude her child's father. The most difficult and complicated option. And, well, when did she ever take the easy route?

Delivering the double-whammy to her mother had been fun. _"Been seeing someone for a couple months, Mom. I'm pregnant. Oh, and he's white."_ Fun times those had been. Taylor side-eyed her but had already assumed she and John were a thing. Taylor was her son after all. She should have known he was in investigative mode at all times and would sniff them out. And, thankfully, he didn't run out to make her a grandma. Didn't make her daughter, his sister, an aunt as soon as she was born.

John had been terrified and thrilled simultaneously. And had asked Harold to make John Reese official. Birth certificate, social security number, passport, driver's license, the whole nine. It was who he saw himself as, who he'd been when he met her, who his small circle knew him as. The version of John he wanted to be. The one his former partner in the CIA did not intend for him to be when she gave him that name.

He'd told her straight out that they could stop pretending they weren't in love with one another and go get a marriage certificate. She'd given him her _hell the fuck no_ look. And told him as much. That that was a crazy ass idea. That he was a criminal. That she would date one, raise a kid with one, but never marry one. Then, she realized how idiotic that sounded. He'd told her he was through looking before he got her pregnant. Before he even kissed her. And that being her husband would help him hide in plain sight. Kind of like those serial killers no one ever suspected because they were "normal" family men. She told him she didn't like that analogy but she got the gist.

So they went ahead and did it. Got married in a civil ceremony, moved into their current home, became Mr. and Mrs. Reese, private security entrepreneur and detective, and awaited the birth of their child under that facade. So far, they had kept it from crumbling. But she always knew one day it would. That they couldn't go on like this forever. One day, someone they knew was going to see him in action and wonder who the hell he really was. Wonder what "private security" really meant. One day he was going to get caught. And they wouldn't be able to use John Warren to get him out. And then he'd make her swear to act oblivious. That she had had no idea what he had been up to the whole time she'd known him. That he'd fooled her. Fooled everyone. Had the unmitigated gall to marry a detective of all people, to keep the suspicion off of him. She'd be another duped wife. Just like those serial killers' wives.

Or, he'd die protecting someone. And she'd be the genuinely devastated widow, charged with keeping his memory alive for his daughter. For herself.

Either way, she wasn't looking forward to the end. But dreading it would keep her from living, keep her from enjoying him and what they had while they had it. So she tried to put it in the back of her mind along with the other painful things she didn't like to think about. But it was a struggle every day. Every single day.

Carter was startled out of her thoughts when her phone vibrated again. An unknown number once more. "Carter." She had decided to keep her last name. It was just easier that way.

"I'm going to pick J up from your mom's today. You have an appointment at The Spa at Mandarin Oriental set for 5:30. Car service is going to pick you up at the station and bring you home from the spa." John continued before she could protest or doubt it would really happen lest he get pulled away for work. "So, go. Relax. Don't worry about anything and I'll see you when you get home."

"John- "

"Go, Joss. It's just for an hour-long massage. Food will be ready when you get home." He listened for a second and heard her sigh in acquiescence. "Okay, I have to go now. Love you."

"Love you, too." She disconnected the call and shook her head. She wasn't in the mood for a massage; she wanted sleep, the whole sleep, and nothing but the sleep. And at the uber expensive Mandarin Oriental uptown no less? She had never been before in her life. She shook her head again at the bourgeois people she was probably going to run into. But he meant well. And if he actually was home when she got there, she was leaving Jacqueline up with him and going to bed.

* * *

"How was it?" John rose from the couch as Joss entered following her trip to the spa.

"It wasn't the worst thing in the world. I fell asleep though. Drool and everything." She smiled at him and inhaled his scent as he pulled her into a bear hug. "Taylor home?"

"No, he went to work." He released her and held her at arm's length. "You look a lot better."

She smirked at him. "Gee, thanks. I'm surprised you're even here."

"Told you I would be."

"Yeah, I've heard that before." She left his grasp and headed to the kitchen. The huge kitchen. Naturally, she had had to move. The two bedroom uptown was too small for the two of them and two kids, even though Taylor had one year left before he left for college. _God, this is so ridiculous._ One heading off to college and one in diapers. If someone would have told her a year ago...

The whole condo was huge. And beyond expensive. No way in hell she could afford it on her salary alone. Finch paid well. Very well. But while Harold was wealthy, John was just rich. Before she and John sealed the deal, he hadn't had any plans for his money. Didn't really expect to live long enough to worry about it. Had no one to leave it to and didn't have extravagant tastes. He was rough on suits and had a serious sweet tooth. That was it. Now he had a family to spend it on, college educations to pay for, and was going to leave it all to them. Finch paid him for his services for practical reasons: he needed a roof over his head and food on his table in order to do what he did. But John didn't do it for the money, and she and Finch knew that. It went a lot deeper than the need to be financially solvent.

He had ordered Indian take out. Her absolute favorite. The man knew what to do to lift her spirits. She had to give him that. "She sleeping?" Joss watched as he nodded. She shook her head. "Gonna be up all night again." She started to fix her plate when he grabbed her hands.

"Go sit down. I'll fix it."

"Thanks." She smiled to herself as she headed to go peek in at Jacqueline. He was really trying to get some tonight wasn't he? She would have to try to give it to him. She was almost starting to feel bad. She thought about it for a minute. With Taylor out and the baby asleep, and her general good mood following that extravagant massage, maybe she could treat him to a quickie. Get it out of the way, eat a little bit, then sleep until next week. Or at least until morning. Satisfied that her daughter was sleeping soundly, she closed the nursery door, crept into the kitchen, and gave John an early evening thrill.

* * *

John stretched out on the couch after having tidied up the kitchen. Joss had gone to bed at around eight thirty after she ate a light helping of saag paneer and took a shower. He was feeling quite proud of himself. Glad he'd helped her relax if only for a little while. Glad he'd gotten a smile out of her. Glad he and Finch had solved the case early that day. Extremely glad he'd gotten not one but two rounds of fantastic sex out of the deal. Now, if only he could not hear from Finch until tomorrow, things would be perfect. He wanted Joss to get some sufficient sleep for once. Her temperament without it was...fucking frightening. He would sleep on a pallet in Jacqueline's room so that the moment she stirred, he'd be there to pop a bottle or pacifier into her mouth.

He just needed Finch not to call.

He looked down at his daughter who was lying in her bouncer, making those baby sounds, staring at the pattern on the couch her father was reclining on. She was just beginning to reach for things but hadn't quite surpassed that milestone yet. So looking at visually stimulating things was all she had going for basic entertainment. She'd just woken up so she was in a good mood. He probably would have about thirty minutes before she began fussing because she was getting bored. He smiled. He didn't do this often enough. Spend time with her. Didn't have the time. When he did, though, he always found himself staring at her, trying to figure out who she looked like. Nobody knew. And everybody joked they were sent home with the wrong kid. He figured she was just her own person. And it was times like these where he really, really wanted to see her grow up. He sighed, appreciating these quiet moments with his angel.

He just needed Finch to not call.

But, Finch called.

"John, I'm sorry but we need you."

Reese gritted his teeth to keep himself from cursing out loud. His daughter was right there after all, gurgling and smiling at those funny little patterns. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, switching his mindset to where it needed to be. "What is it?"

Finch fired off his spiel rapid fire. Because they had no time. "We received three new numbers just after you left. I interrupted Detective Fusco's dinner to get eyes on one while I went for one of the others. When he arrived, she was already dead and I lost contact with him. I've sent the police to his location.

"I've got eyes on the second but if they're already being targeted, I need you to get to the third one right away. A Taryn Keller. I'll send you her work and home addresses. Try her home first. I sent the po- "

"Finch, get the police to Taryn's house. Tell them you saw someone breaking in and that'll hold off whoever may be trying to hurt her, at least until I can get there."

"That's what I was saying, Mr. Reese. I've already contacted the police. If we're too early and nothing's wrong once they arrive, they won't be there long. You need to get there quickly."

"Finch, where are you?" Reese headed for his shoes lying at the other end of the couch on the floor and slipped them on. He stood up and began tucking his shirt back into his pants, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear.

"I'm at a Thomas Lang's home address. He's not home yet but- "

"Finch, if you see anything suspicious, call the cops. Again." He knew Harold put the numbers before himself. Knew he wouldn't want him to come to his aid over another potential victim. If all of them were victims. But that didn't mean Reese wouldn't worry about him. "Don't confront anybody. Just hold off until the cops get there."

"John, I'm sending you Taryn's address. I'll do what I can here." Finch hung up.

Reese cursed to himself again. A few times, actually, for good measure. Fusco might be hurt. Finch might be in danger. At most two other people were in trouble. And it sounded like Finch hadn't had much time to do research. Harold had probably hoped to delay involving him, hoped it could wait until morning if he and Fusco struck out tonight, but if someone was already dead, time was probably running out for the other two. If one or both of the other two weren't the killers.

They really needed all four hands on deck for this one. Preferably, Harold would be in the library digging up as much information as he could while he, Joss, and Fusco divvied up the numbers out in the field. That's how it should have gone anyway. But John had messed around and gotten a personal life on top of his professional one, and one or the other was going to suffer.

He hated to do it. Absolutely hated to let her down once again. But he grabbed Jacqueline's bouncer- interrupting her conversation with the patterns in the process- and raced to his bedroom. He placed his daughter on the floor by the bed and shook his wife. "Joss. Joss, wake up." He got a miserable groan in response. He really fucking hated to do this to her. "I have to go. Finch called. I'm sorry." He left out the part about Fusco. Didn't want her to feel worried and helpless on top of the sleep deprivation. There wasn't anything she'd be able to do in time anyway. Someone had to watch the baby. He made sure her eyes were open before he took off, grabbing his jacket, his phone, his earpiece, and his keys before flying out the front door and down the hall. He would use one of the guns he kept hidden in his car.

He peeled off into traffic, four things heavy on his mind: Fusco, Finch, Taryn Keller, and guilt. How did Joss put up with him? Things couldn't continue this way. He needed to accept it.

* * *

When Reese arrived at Taryn's home address, a couple of police cars were present. He dialed Finch to check on him while he worked the perimeter, looking for anyone casing the area like he was. "I'm here, Finch. Cops are, too. What's going on? Have you heard from Lionel?" The sound of gunfire drowned out Harold's response. Instinctively, Reese moved toward the sound that died down as quickly as it started. Maybe the cops weren't too early after all. Maybe they were right on time. "One more time, Finch?"

"I said I'm still sitting here, Mr. Reese. There's no sign of Mr. Lang yet. I wonder if I might be in the wrong place. I wonder if he's still at work. Detective Fusco called. He's okay. Claims it's just a bump on the head and he'll live."

Reese breathed a sigh of relief. So far, both Harold and Lionel were okay. He and Lionel weren't the best of friends but there was a grudging respect there. And he was his wife's partner. Looked out for her five or six days a week. That would always go a long way with him. Always. He entered the building, heard a cop radioing in although he couldn't understand what was being said. He climbed the stairs until he reached the correct floor. A few other tenants had their heads sticking out their doors, too curious about what was going on to be worried about their own safety with bullets flying. Idiots. He'd play the role, too, he supposed. He was just a guy on his way home that just happened to be on that floor. Past the scene.

And he did. Played the role and managed to sneak a picture of the victim before the cops barked at him to get the hell out of the area. The victim was a white male, dressed in dark clothing. The killer most likely. Who he assumed was Taryn Keller was standing in her living room next to a couple of police officers shell-shocked. Understandably.

He left the way he came in. Finch was still on the line. "Finch, I'm sending you a photo of the dead guy in Taryn's apartment. See if he's your missing number."

Reese returned to his vehicle and waited, hoping the photo was clear enough. He already knew Finch had the three numbers' photos on his board back at the library. And on his phone so he knew who he was looking for.

"I don't recognize him, Mr. Reese."

John swore under his breath. Again. Of course this wouldn't be that simple. Of course he couldn't be back home in less than two hours so Joss could go back to sleep. "Where are you, Finch? I'm coming."

* * *

John eventually went to Lang's work address while Harold remained at his home address. Mr. Lang wasn't at either because he was at a bar enjoying his co-workers' company. They had finally come to this conclusion once Finch saw him stumble up his walkway. After John's arrival to take over surveillance now that their number was home, Finch left to go to the library to fish for more information. Either there was only one threat to all three who had been neutralized at Ms. Keller's home and Lang was safe, or there were more potential assassins out there who would eventually come for Lang. Or Lang was the threat to someone other than the two other numbers. Or he was the threat to the one who had been murdered and Taryn Keller was unrelated. Or he was a totally unrelated potential victim or totally unrelated potential perpetrator.

Damn puzzle from hell this one was. And John was itching to get back home.

He tapped his earpiece when Finch called. "I'm here, Finch." He tried to take the irritation out of his voice but he was sure he failed astronomically.

"Go home, Mr. Reese. All three had the same chiropractor."

Reese realized Finch wasn't there to see the _what the fuck_ look on his face that he had learned from the master, Joss Carter, so he verbalized his feelings. "What are you talking about, Finch?"

"All three were suing their chiropractor for malpractice." Harold added dryly, "Apparently, he was a little sensitive about that fact."

Reese started his car. It was almost one o'clock in the morning. Joss would need to get up for work in five hours. He wondered if Jacqueline had let her get any sleep at all.

"I'm taking care of our little doctor friend now."

Reese almost asked Finch to leave him to him. Asshole had ruined his wife's night. And somebody needed to pay for that. Instead, he drew in a deep, calming breath and told Harold goodnight.

* * *

"I'm going to quit, John."

Reese paused as he climbed into bed beside his wife one week later.

"Or at least take an extended leave of absence."

He got over the shock and continued his descent onto the bed. "You don't need to do that, Joss." He didn't want her to do that. Not at all. He had been thinking about how things were going as well. And he knew he needed to be the one to give up his job. His need for redemption. It was unattainable. He'd never be satisfied with his progress and he knew it. He had other responsibilities now. A little girl he needed to see to adulthood. A son who was almost there but not quite. It was bigger than him. Bigger than his past. He was forty-five years old. Even if he wanted to, his body wouldn't allow him to keep doing what he was doing forever. And at his age, he needed to learn how to move on, how to let go. Finally. It was time. Accept that he'd done bad things for country. Accept that he'd made mistakes. Wasn't perfect. And accept that, given who and what he now had in his life, a higher power saw fit to see him with this kind of happiness regardless. Something greater than him meant for him to have the love of Joss and his kids.

Joss looked at nothing in particular, continuing her train of thought. "I could go back to focus on law again, maybe. Later..."

He looked at her. "I'm going to quit. I'm the problem here." He watched as she looked at him as though he'd sprouted two horns. Then she shook her head.

"Oh no. Hell no, John. I know you. You need that job. I don't need mine. I don't need it like you need yours. Besides, I knew what I was getting into when J was born. Kids are sacrifice, John. I don't mind it. And it's not going to last forever."

"I'm learning that, Joss. This whole time it's only been you sacrificing. It's my turn."

She continued to shake her head. The job with Finch was his therapy. Those emotional scars she didn't want to go near? Even though she was married to him? She still didn't want to. The job was his therapy. She didn't want to see him without his regular therapeutic appointments. Even though she honestly wished she had more help and didn't have to keep defending her absentee husband to her mother. "No, John. No. Keep doing what you need to do until you're ready, really ready, to move on. Don't let us force you. We're going to be okay. You quit, John, I swear I'm leaving you. I don't want to see what you're like without this mission of yours."

He tried not to roll his eyes. Why did everybody think that about him? He spoke slowly in a measured tone. "Jocelyn. I'm telling you I don't need it anymore. No one is forcing this on me."

She sat up to stare at him. "You're telling me, if you didn't have us, you would be wanting to quit right now? That's what you're telling me?"

He thought about it. "No, I wouldn't. But that's the point. All of you are in my life now for a reason."

She sighed and searched his eyes. She wasn't convinced. And she really did not want to see what he was like without Finch's direction, without his sole reason for living since she'd known him. But maybe they could take more time. Think about things a little more before they made any decisions. She reached out and touched his arm. "I just want you to be happy, John. You know that. You've earned it. But do you really think you'll be able to go on knowing somebody out there somewhere needs your kind of help and isn't going to get it because you quit?" She shook her head at him. "I don't want that to weigh on you, on top of everything else that weighs on you."

He looked away. She was right. That was the one thing he didn't want to face. Knowing that the machine was going to continue to dole out numbers and he would be leaving Finch alone. He couldn't do it. Harold was his best damn friend. He'd saved him. Without him he wouldn't have what he had. He probably wouldn't even be alive. Sure, he still would have met Joss, still would have felt that freakish connection with her, but he would have gone back to his hole, eventually forgotten about her because he would have had no reason to keep in contact with her. He owed Harold everything. He couldn't leave him alone to save the numbers.

He needed to, though. He needed to let it all go. For his family. For his mental health. To heal. But Joss was right. He simply could not bring himself to do it.

"Besides, it's only temporary. Once she starts sleeping through the night and I can finally get some sleep, I'll go back to work. Doing something else if the NYPD doesn't take me back."

He wouldn't admit it to her but he was relieved. Beyond relieved. Glad she wasn't talking about _quitting_ quitting. Because of him. That he wouldn't have been able to deal with. But she was letting him off the hook. He'd be able to keep his job. He'd be able to continue helping Harold. He wouldn't have to face that new terrifying reality. The one without the clear, directed purpose. The one without the danger, the violence, the mission, the palpable, visible enemy, the routine and structure he knew so well. The one without the only reality he'd known for the last twenty years of his life.

She would only quit temporarily. Until Jacqueline got on a reasonable schedule.

Maybe it would work out. Maybe he could have it all. _Famous last words,_ he thought. _Famous last fucking words._

* * *

"Zoe."

"John." Zoe Morgan watched as John folded his long frame into the booth across from her. This particular rustic-looking diner in the middle of the city wasn't a usual haunt of hers but their business would be brief. John and Harold needed information regarding Jack Hoveman, a city councilman they were interested in saving, stopping, or whatever it was this week. While she had had no direct contact with Hoveman, she had offered her services to his most recent opponent, with whom Hoveman had had a nasty battle for the seat he now occupied. "You're looking well. How've you been?" She smiled at him, looking for the crack in his demeanor. It was her new hobby as of late, the few times she met up with him. Ever since he'd shocked the hell out of her and become a family man on the side. She was good at reading people. Excellent really. If she weren't she wouldn't be in business. But she'd gotten him all wrong.

She always looked for it now. What she had missed. What he had apparently kept hidden, kept carefully socked away. That lone wolf air, that unflappable hard shell, it had apparently just been a well-crafted front. A carefully honed facade. A mask. It wasn't him, not the real him. It was an act. A very convincing one. And now she sat wondering how the detective did it. Saw what was underneath that persona when others didn't- couldn't- and got him to let her in. Or if she even had to try.

"Pretty good. You?"

He smiled at her. Like he always did when he met with her. Except that undercurrent of mystery was gone. That tease, that invitation for a chase- knowing he'd never allow himself to be conquered- was gone. She'd humored him before, fascinated at seeing him use her own play against her. And they'd eventually had a damn good time for their efforts. But it wasn't long after when she discovered what had happened. That there was someone out there not getting that smile that he reserved for her, for probably every interested woman he came across. Someone got a different kind of smile. A genuine one.

Someone had conquered and won.

"No complaints. How's the family?" She watched him carefully. It was the new game they played. She would ask, he would deflect.

He'd never spoken Detective Carter's name to her. Not once. Never outright said that their sexual activities were over because his were now exclusively taking place with someone else. But she could pinpoint when he changed. And since she knew his social circle was infinitesimal, she knew it was her. The way he and Carter had spoken the one time she'd met her, with familiarity and teasing, it wasn't much of a stretch to assume the detective was a part of his inner circle. That there was something there. That she was someone he obviously trusted, considering the woman was a law enforcement officer assisting his vigilantism and it clearly wasn't her first time at the rodeo.

And then six months ago she received a genuine surprise when she saw the detective leaving a restaurant one night with a friend. She was talking, laughing, seemingly having a great time catching up. And visibly pregnant.

Zoe was happy for him. Glad that he had what apparently deep down he was looking for. How could she not be? She was still breathing because of him. But she wondered how he did it. How he and the detective made it work with his propensity for breaking laws and her publicly sworn duty to enforce them. How the hell they kept all of that under wraps. What kind of lies she had to keep up with every day to protect him. How the hardened former assassin reconciled his dangerous persona with being a father.

How he continued to put his life on the line for strangers when nothing but family should come first. She'd known that from the start when she embarked on her own current line of employment. There was no family in the cards for her, no motherhood. Even if she'd wanted it, it wouldn't have been possible. Her job, like John's, didn't leave room for anything else. She was surprised he didn't know that. That they were mutually exclusive. And she felt bad for that inevitable moment when he finally figured it out.

"How's business?"

"Lucrative as always. This is all I have on Hoveman." She reached to her right and retrieved a small manila envelope, sliding it across the table to him. She watched as he put his game face on and looked over the contents, asking questions until he'd gotten what he needed. "So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need to find another angle. Maybe focus on the wife and her activities." He began to put the contents back into the envelope, preparing to leave.

"John?"

He looked up at his companion.

"You never showed me a picture."

He let a smile spread across his face for a moment as he nodded to himself. She was curious. He didn't blame her. He wasn't exactly sure how she knew since he kept his personal affairs out of his business, but Zoe was good at what she did for a reason. He would have loved to show his daughter, the best thing he'd ever done, off to anyone who could see. But it wasn't possible. "I don't carry one around. Considering what I do." He didn't carry any pictures of his family around on his phone for the same reason he didn't wear a wedding ring. The last thing he needed was to be in a situation where their presence in his life would be discovered, threatened, and used against him.

"Walking quite the tightrope there, aren't you?" She watched as he swallowed. Maybe he wasn't so naive after all. Maybe he had already figured it out. "How do you do it?" She watched as he finished refilling the envelope and slid it back over to her.

"If you find out anything else about Hoveman, give us a call?"

She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Sure."

"Thanks." And with that, he slipped out of the booth and out of the diner.

"You're welcome, John." She spoke to no one in particular.

Reese waited until he was well into the thick of the New York City crowd before he let himself think about it. Again. His continued selfishness. Putting the safety of strangers above his own life when it wasn't just his life anymore. He had no business getting married if he wasn't ready to put his wife before his own demons. He had no business calling himself a father. Though Joss knew what she had signed up for, Jacqueline hadn't signed up for it. Taylor hadn't either. He couldn't hide behind his fear for Harold anymore.

He was going to have to face it. He was going to have to face himself. John. Without the shield.

_One__ day later_

"Why are we here, Finch?" They were back at the park, sitting on the bench, the place where it all started.

"I liked the symmetry of it."

Reese turned to his friend who was looking off into the distance. "Of what?"

"We've done good work together, John. We always knew it wouldn't last forever."

Reese turned to look off into the distance as well, feeling that punch in the gut, knowing what Finch was about to do. Even knowing it had to happen, knowing he was going to make it happen, he was surprised at how hard it hit. How lost he was suddenly feeling. He swallowed. "You firing me, Finch?"

Finch stiffly turned in his seat to face his friend. "I'm freeing you." He faced forward again. "One of the less selfish reasons I gave you this job was for you to live." He turned his torso toward his friend once more. "So, go, John. Live. Watch that little angel grow up."

John finally turned to face his friend. "What will you do?" He figured Harold would know what he meant. What he was still worried about. He saw Finch swallow and knew this wasn't easy for him either.

Harold turned away. "You know me. I'll figure something out." He sat in silence for a moment. "There are other ways of helping people. Perhaps it's time we both discovered how."

John knew Harold was right. That they had done good work. That they couldn't do it forever. That they were being given another chance. Instead of one or both of them ending up dead, there was an alternate ending to their story.

He was going to see his kids grow up.

He was going to grow old with his wife.

It was what he wanted. Deep down. What he'd always wanted. When he'd left the military behind for Jessica all those years ago.

"Joss said she'd leave me if I quit."

Finch turned to him then, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You didn't quit. I fired you."

A smirk found its way to John's face. "I thought you freed me."

Silence crept its way to the two men, draping them with a new found peace. Uncertain, though, it was.

"Thank you, Harold."

"Thank _you_...Mr. Reese."


End file.
